Disappointment
by CrazyDisasterForKicks
Summary: "I can just tell you'll be a disappointment." Dean Winchester, living the life of somebody who was already dead on the inside. Warnings on the inside.
1. Chapter 1

Title: Disappointment  
>Word Count: 1, 076<br>Summary: "I can just tell you'll be a disappointment." Dean Winchester, living the life of somebody who was already dead on the inside.  
>Warnings: Slash. Het. Mentions of prostitution. Depression. Language. Maybe some actual sexual content. Other things that I'm not quite aware of yet. Technical slavery?<p>

"Do you ever expect anything out of people that you know they can't give to you?" Melinda, a pretty blonde he met earlier, grimaced. "It's kind of a feeling I get from you." She didn't pay any attention to the confused and slightly offended look that dominated his features. "I can just tell you'll be a disappointment. Not to be rude or anything, you just give off that vibe."

She hummed and pulled out a cigarette from her purse, lighting it and taking a drag. "You probably would be great in bed, probably a great human being in general..." she paused, thinking for a moment. "No, no, there's just something off-putting about you. I don't care to stick around and find out what it is the hard way either." She turned to walk away and the man couldn't move. He wanted to reach out, to stop her and beg her to let him prove that he's a not a disappointment.

He was paralyzed, no matter how much his mind screamed at him to move, his body wouldn't. Her lean legs walked farther and farther away with the misguided judgement that he was somebody who could be overlooked because they were going to fail in life. Suddenly, a surge of anger pounded through his body. He wouldn't be a failure, he was better than that. He would accomplish something in life, make his name known all over the world, and Melinda would look back on this day and regret the fact that she just brushed him off. He was something, he was a success, and he would prove it, even if it took twenty years.

The man turned around and slowly walked away, the two of them going in different directions, probably never to meet up again. He frowned as he walked away, the anger that was previously burning through him, subsiding. Who was he kidding? He wasn't actually anything. He just helped his father save the world on a daily basis. That wasn't anything _important_. He knew that saving a couple lives didn't make up for the bad grades, the drinking, the smoking, or any of the shit he pulled with his family. Maybe he was a disappointment, his father certainly saw him as one. Everyone must, he decided, everyone probably saw him as that worthless teenage alcoholic who shouldn't even bother coming to school.

He should put it out of his mind though, he watched out for people, protected them when they weren't looking. If that didn't make him sound like a creepy stalker, he didn't know if anything would. It wasn't his fault that he was dealt the shittiest cards on planet earth, that he was forced into this life. Hell, it wasn't fair that his dad had practically stolen his childhood and raised him to be a disappointment. It was life, it was fucking life.

He was just that kid who walked through life not understanding anything they taught in school. He was something else, and that depression that he had been holding down started to come back up, Melinda's words echoing, _"I can just tell you'll be a disappointment."_ He already was. He was a failure and nobody could help him be anything else.

Dean Winchester was living the life of somebody already dead and he didn't expect that to change anytime soon. Once Sammy didn't need him anymore and his dad could forget about him, he would end it. A simple ending for a complicated life. It sounded like a dream, his life felt like a dream. He was a dream.

Dean's legs carried him to his shitty little motel room where his little brother was probably sleeping and his dad wasn't going to be in. He would wallow in self pity for a couple of hours before leaving the room in some revealing clothes to make a couple extra bucks for them to live on. He was worthless and a whore. A disappointment.

Nothing had ever effected him this much. Dean stared at the motel room's door and his breath hitched. He didn't want to live like this anymore. He didn't want to wake up and remind himself that he was just another kid who was probably going to drop out before the end of the year, another kid spreading his legs for money. His mom had always told him that he would be something more, something special. She used to whisper to him at night that the Angels were watching over him, protecting him from the evil in the world. Instead, he was protecting others from evil and nobody was protecting him. Green eyes collected tears and Dean sniffed, trying not to let them fall. Time passed slowly as he thought about entering the room. The shitty motel lights flickered on and off every once in a while and he figured he should go inside. At least for a little while, if only to make sure Sam was in bed and asleep instead of reading under the covers like the nerd he was.

It was reluctantly that he unlocked the door and came face to face with an empty room. No bags were sitting by the table and the beds were made perfectly. Dean paused and looked closer. There was nothing in the room. Nothing. He pulled out his cell and checked to see if he had any missed calls. None. "What the fuck." He whispered, walking further into the room. "Dad? Sam?"

Nobody answered him and Dean felt like a bucket of ice water had been dumped on him. Had they left him? His eyes roved the room as his legs moved, running and searching for anything. A clue to where they had gone, a hint of what he had done to make them angry. When Dean made it to the ramshackle kitchen he almost let the tears fall. His last note telling his dad where he was going hung on the fridge, with a little note beside it.

"Why do I doubt you actually went to see a movie? No. I've told you before Dean, lying doesn't fly in this family. I know where you've been going to whore yourself out. So, I took the liberty of finding a man and selling you to him. You deserve this. He'll be at the motel to pick you up. You go missing and I'll come and kill you myself."

Dean Winchester.

Seventeen-years-old.

Personal whore.

Disappointment.

Property of Harry Potter.

A/N: ..So, I think this cured my writers block. Let me know if you want me to continue with this? My other fics are kind of shot to hell though. Its been a rough couple of months.

Love,

CDFK.

Please review though...


	2. Chapter 2

Word Count: 1004  
>Disclaimer: not mine.<br>Warnings: Everything mentioned previously. Also, SLASH, HET. OOC. Bad writing. No!Beta. ...Probably more but right now I can't think of any.

A/N: So, I hate this chapter. It's just bad. And choppy. Sorry, but this is the third time I've typed it up.

Why? Why? Why would his dad do this to him, sell him like a piece of junk to the person who decided to actually pay. Why would his dad, his fucking father, ever even think to do this to somebody. It was unreasonable, Dean knew no matter how much he disappointed his father, John wouldn't ever actually get rid of him. Except...he did. John sold him, Sammy left too. They just...threw him away like he was last weeks paper. Dean sat on the couch and closed his eyes, legs crossed, and he waited. Waited for something to happen.

John had made it seem like the man would be waiting right outside of the door. Just ready to come in and pounce on the boy who he had bought. Dean shivered slightly, what kind of person buys a human? He was almost tempted to pull out his battered cell and call his dad, asking how much he even got for selling his son. It wouldn't be worth it though, John wouldn't answer and Dean knew that if Sam did he would probably break down and actually cry. Instead, Dean decided to wait. His life was already over anyways, what did it matter that he would probably be used as a sex toy and discarded in a couple of years when he wasn't "pretty" anymore? It didn't matter.

Nothing mattered anymore. Before he knew it, Dean was falling asleep, body slumped on the couch, no weapons in site.

-0-

Harry looked at the door to the motel and wondered why he was even here. "To give a poor boy a better life," a voice whispered. "He deserves it and you've wanted a companion for a while now." Harry thought about knocking before discarding the idea and just decided to see if the door was unlocked. He wasn't sure how surprised he actually was when the door opened with barely a push. Harry sighed and carefully walked inside.

He made sure to make little sound so he wouldn't scare the poor boy. His eyes scanned the room and landed on the teen laying on the couch. He paused and bit his lip, he owned a human being now. _Owned _one. Almost like he was some kind of pet who he decided to buy one day. Harry walked closer and knelt besides the boy. Dean, he reminded himself, the boy's name is Dean and not much younger than you are. He debated silently if he should just pick him up and carry him out to his car and then to his apartment or if he should wake him up and get the screaming over with.

Get it over with.

"Dean," Harry called, touching the boy's shoulder. "Wake up. We need to get out of here before it hits morning light." The boy didn't move and Harry frowned, the man-John?-had said that Dean was a very light sleeper and a good hunter. (A hunter of all things, the poor boy was forced to kill the supernatural at such a young age!) Harry shook Dean harder, trying to get him to wake up.

"Leave me alone," Dean moaned, hiding his face farther in the cushions. "I don't care how much money you gave my dad, just leave me the fuck alone and get out of here." Harry inhaled deeply, softly rubbing Dean's shoulder. At least he hadn't started to scream.

"Can't do that. Sorry, Dean. I'm here to help you though, I didn't buy you so you could lead some terrible life. I bought you so you could find a home and maybe you could be happy." If Dean's snort was anything to go by, Harry could safely assume that Dean didn't believe him. Which Harry had to admit was rather smart. "I'm not lying, how about we go back to my apartment and we can talk out the details. I'm not going to let you stay here."

"Why not?" Dean snapped, turning to face Harry. "I don't even fucking know you. You don't care about me. I sure as hell don't care that you bought me like a dog. Get the fuck away from me and leave me alone."

Harry's expression took on a stone like quality and Dean gulped a little. "Right now I really don't have the time or patience for a fight about how you don't care about anything or how your life already sucks. Get up and get in my car. You'll have a better life with me. A life that will actually take you somewhere, and by somewhere I don't mean some dirty alleyway making a couple bucks for spreading your legs."

Dean rolled his eyes, he wasn't really up for doing anything else. He was just so goddamn tired. "Like you won't make me spread 'em anyways."

Before Dean could process what was happening, Harry picked him up from the couch and threw him over his shoulder. "Shut up and don't struggle. I want to get home sometime before I actually have to go to work." Dean relaxed and gave in, not really needing the extra shit his father decided to put him through.

"I don't even know your name." Dean murmured, his face buried in the strangers back. Dean knew a couple things about the stranger though. First off, he owned him. The second thing was that he was strong and wasn't afraid to show it. Third was that he smelt kind of good, almost like the forest. The last thing was that he made Dean feel safe, weirdly enough.

Feeling safe with the guy who basically had complete control over his life. Fancy that. Stranger things have happened though, like his mother being pinned to the ceiling and burnt to death by a demon, but that was about it.

"'M names Harry. Harry Potter."

Dean knew that everything had changed. Maybe, though, just maybe it had changed for the better. That is, if Harry wasn't a lying cheating scumbag.

Dean sure hoped he wasn't.

A/n: Please review. Thanks to the five of you who did last time. Thanks for the story alerts. I like reviews too though. By the way, this is my first time ever writing a story like this.


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Disappointment  
>Warnings: Everything previously mentioned.<br>Word Count: 1,266  
>PairingsCharacters: Dean Winchester, Harry Potter. Other characters to be brought in. Pairing undecided.

A/N: Check bottom note.

Dean fell asleep about half way through the drive. His head leaned against the window and his body slouched over the seat. He looked upset, even in sleep. Harry shook his head and gassed the car just a little bit more. Maybe if he got home and moved Dean into a bed he would relax, the kid deserved some peace. At least while he was sleeping. It seemed like it took years to get to his house, the dark shadows pressing on the car.

Reality crashed on Harry the moment he pulled up in front of his little two story house. He had bought a teenager... He owned somebody now. How did that even work? It for damn sure wasn't legal. Which meant after giving Dean a warm meal and a place to sleep for a couple of days, the kid could leave. He could go get a job or track down his father. Harry paused, did he really want this kid somehow going back to that man? Not really. Dean deserved more than that dick of a dad. He deserved somebody who could take care of him and pamper him a little bit.

Harry got out of his car and ignored the thoughts that were nagging at him. He had rushed into this. He didn't want to make himself regret it, but what had he been thinking? Obviously, he hadn't. It took seconds to move Dean out of the passenger seat and pick him up. Harry could only marvel at how well he fit into his arms, how skinny he was. He shut the door and the clang that followed was telling him that this was final. He couldn't go back now. He had made his decision to help Dean, and goddamn it, he would. He could become family with Dean. Maybe even like an older brother. Like...family...

-0-

"Sammy! Where are you?" Dean called out, walking quickly through the streets. The street lights flickered and Dean moved to the middle a little more. He really didn't want to be out here so late at night. Nobody, besides hookers, would be caught dead in this part of town at this time of night. "SAM!"

There was no answer and Dean swore he could hear a laugh in the shadows. He swung around and glared, a snarl ripping its way out of his throat. "Whose there? Show yourself!" Silence followed the echo of his voice and Dean scowled. "Fuckin' pansy ass, staying in the shadows and trying to hop on me. You aren't a fuckin' ninja." Despite how quick he was to throw out insults, Dean pulled his jacket tighter around his shoulders and moved on.

He was running before he knew it, chasing after the idea that Sammy was just beyond his grasp. He could get to him in time if he just ran! Dean set a furious pace and didn't stop, not for the moans and the screams that followed him. Not for the little girl clutching a bear and crying in the corner of the alleyway. He had to find Sam. He just had too. Nothing in his life was more important than Sam. Nothing and no one. Not even his own body.

With a curse he fell, ankle aching from where it connected with the misplaced brick. Tears welled up in his eyes and his body ached. He had been running for hours. Dean was shaking as he made his way to stand, the red lights bathing his body. "Sammy." He whispered, trying to convince himself to move some more. He couldn't be far now.

He was running again. In the blink of an eye, he had been on his knees trying to move and then he was running. Body taking corners at a dangerous pace. Fear pumped through his bloodstream, rocking his body with adrenaline. His ears picked up the sound of a moan, low and familiar. Dean slowed down and back tracked slightly. He heard it again and his heart stopped. That wasn't a pleasure filled moan, that was one of pain and scarily recognizable.

'Sammy?' He mouthed in the dark, body shifting to cloak himself. He moved forward slowly, the fear that made him run increasing by the second. Right about now he wished he had his revolver. Everything was easier when you had a gun in your hand. The wooden door that obscured the moans swung open.

Dean moved forward to peek inside and horror consumed him. "Sam? Sammy?" He rushed forward, eyes locked onto the broken body that was curled in the middle of the room. He dropped to his knees, hands immediately going to take a pulse. Slow, but there. Dean tried to pry the hands away from the mans face, trying to get a better look. "Sam! Sammy is that you? Come on, man, you gotta move a little so I can check out your injuries."

The man let out another pained moan and his ragged breathing stopped. Dean swore before violently straightening the guy out. A strangled sound escaped Dean as his baby brothers face came into view. "Sam?" Dean breathed, eyes wide and confused.

Sam wasn't supposed to be in this part of town. Sam was supposed to be safe at the motel while Dean made some extra cash. Dean went to hug Sam, to pull his body close and comfort the bleeding boy. He cried out when something sharp pierced his abdomen. He looked down, glancing at the knife protruding from his body before he looked back up, meeting Sam's eyes. They were black. Black as night and Dean grew angry.

He pushed the demon away and pulled the knife out, ignoring the searing pain that flew through his body. "Fuck you," he hissed, spitting blood at the demon.

"You already did, don't you remember?" The cruel smile made Dean pause for a moment.

"What? You're fucking crazy if you think I would touch my baby brother." Dean sneered, one hand pressed to the wound. The demon smirked and shrugged.

"You touch a lot of people you shouldn't." The black eyes son-of-a-bitch was moving before Dean could see. The next moment pain assaulted him. A hit to his side, a finger in his wound. He screamed and screamed as the pain just kept on coming.

-0-

That's how he woke up. Screaming. Thrashing and hitting anyone who was near him. Once his fist connected with a hard body he fought even harder, trying to get away from that next blow. The words being screamed at him didn't make sense until he tired himself out.

"Dean. Calm down. Just calm down." Strong arms wrapped around Dean's torso and held him close. "Shh," he whispered, "its fine. It was just a dream..."

It took a few minutes before Dean relaxed completely. Harry held him close, whispering words of comfort the entire time. Dean wanted to say something but his throat was too dry and he was too tired. Life had just been so exhausting lately. It struck him, as he was falling asleep, that it was kind of weird that the arms of his "owner" comforted him so much.

Oh well, he thought as he drifted off, at least this will means nothing will ever be boring.

A\N: So, I'm really sorry for the wait you guys. I've had the flu and I wasn't really thinking of writing. So, please review, I really need the support and input on this story. Badly. I've never really written anything like this and I really don't want it to be a complete failure.

CDFK.

Please review. I'll give you a cookie? Or another chapter by tuesday...


	4. Chapter 4

Word Count: 1,127  
>Disclaimer: Do not own<br>Beta: None  
>Pairing: HarryDean. (Eventually)  
>Warnings: Anything and everything I've mentioned before.<p>

AUTHORS NOTE: Those of you who have been following me a long time know I've been getting really sick, a lot. This time I just..couldn't get rid of the flu. I've been miserable and this past week I've been catching up on school work. I'm so sorry.

Dean is pretty damn sure he has Harry figured out. The man is obviously easily affected by people who need something. Anything, actually, in general seems like it affects Harry in some way, shape or form. Dean, who is still a little weary, affects him the most. Dean has never been stupid, he might not ace school like Sammy did, but he wasn't stupid.

Harry wants to help him. Dean gets that, he understands it. Harry wants to help him so much that he was willing to buy Dean from John, house Dean for—well, Dean guessed, _forever—_and then get Dean all the extra's he needed. He had to have a ulterior motive, anybody who was sane would. It was common sense, you do something for some one they owe you one. Except, as the days went on, Harry was nothing but nice. He never asked for anything more.

Dean threw tantrums, he sulked, he tried to run away—that didn't go to well. Harry had found him and hauled him back, not without giving him a choice though—the point was, Dean had done a lot of crap within the last couple of months. Yet, no matter how he acted, Harry didn't throw him out or beat him.

In a way, Dean was grateful. He still had a lot anger, a lot of unresolved problems. Harry was willing to deal with him though, and that, in a way, was what could possibly be the turning point for his life. (How many turning points are there in someone's life? Hundreds? Thousands? A turning point could be the difference of taking a left over a right one day.)

Dean knew, deep down, that Harry was all he had right now. Some part of him longed to hear Sammy burst through the front door, excited about achieving an "A" on some exam. That wouldn't happen though, Sammy had abandoned him and had gone with John when they left Dean. He hadn't even left a little note saying he was okay or that he never wanted to see Dean again. Dean had nothing to go on, Sam probably hated him. He was probably thinking that Dean was a disgusting whore.

Dean's hand clenched, the spoon he was eating with digging into his palm. His shoulders dropped even farther with that thought. Sammy would never know that what Dean did, he did for the family. To keep Sam well fed and clothed for school. He wouldn't ever come to appreciate that Dean would do anything for family, no matter what.

That wouldn't happen now. His family had gone from small to nonexistent. No Sammy, no John. Just Dean...and maybe Harry given time. Dean rubbed his forehead and sighed, spoon pushing around some of his cereal. Thinking about life always made him depressed as fuck. His life kind of sucked, it always had. He could always blame John though. That seemed like the logical thing, or he could blame the Demon that fucked them over more than once.

"Hey, Dean." Harry mumbled, slowly making his way into the kitchen. He was only wearing pajama bottoms and Dean rolled his eyes. Harry didn't know the meaning of "shirt" unless they were going out in public. He constantly took his off and it was hard for him to keep it on in public. He was one-of-a-kind if you really thought about it.

There was something...different about him though. Besides being way to kind to random whores, Harry had this aura about him. Something that made people trust him a little to quick. If you were being honest though, the thing that made you trust him was probably his eyes. Bright emerald green... They were brighter than anyone else's that he had ever met.

Dean glanced up when Harry plopped down in front of him with a bowl of cereal. The man didn't even open his eyes as he started shoveling food in his mouth. "Harry?"

Harry glanced up, "Yeah, that is my name." He shoveled another spoonful into his mouth. "What's wrong?" It was kind of sad that Harry had to ask what was wrong when Dean just wanted to know something. Dean never went to Harry when something was fine, he knew that.

"Just...Nothing. Never mind." Dean glanced down at the table, attention shifting to all of the nicks in the wood.

Rolling his eyes, Harry cocked an eyebrow at Dean. "Bull. Something's up." He swirled his spoon around, looking at Dean with a 'stop-lying-I-know-something-is-bothering-you' look. He casually shoveled more cereal into his mouth as he waited.

"Why..." Dean paused. "Why do you put up with all my shit?" That wasn't quite the question he wanted to ask. _Why haven't you used me yet? Why haven't you tried to beat the disobedience out of me? Why are you still here, looking after me as if I was an actual human being and not your personal property? _

Harry looked right into Dean's eyes, honesty pouring from them. "Why wouldn't I?"

If he was honest with himself, Dean never tried to look for the good in people. He never thought there was any. If you weren't a kid, you weren't innocent. As simple as that. " `Cause, with the way the world works, you should be wanting something in return. You shouldn't just be putting up with my shit. It's...well, it's _stupid._"

"So?" Harry leaned back in his chair and cocked an eyebrow. "You're worth it, Dean. You might not see it, hell, I know you don't see it. I see it though, I see the passion in your eyes on the good days and I know what you can accomplish in your life. You're worth every penny and every headache."

Silence followed Harry's words. Dean wanted to run, thats what he had been doing his whole life. He couldn't though, Harry would just follow him and be so... so... so _Harry. _

It always came down to Harry. Harry this and Harry that. Dean frowned slightly, he was so dependent on this man, this stranger who bought him. So...infatuated? Was that even possible? Could he jump from basically hating this man to liking him? Was it a variation of Stockholm Syndrome?

He wasn't being kept here against his will though. Harry had offered on many occasions to let him go, hell, he would of gladly set Dean up with a house and a monthly income.

What the fuck was going on?

Dean moved out of his chair quickly, brain still whirling. He moved around the table and sat beside Harry. Before he knew what he was actually doing, his hands had moved to cup Harry's face. He had leaned in and gently pressed his lips against the other man's.

He pulled back slowly.

Silence descended upon the kitchen.

A/N; Please review, I'm kind of in need of encouragement.


End file.
